


kiss it better

by pxint



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 20:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17230400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pxint/pseuds/pxint
Summary: It’s still morning. The morning after one of the worst games he’s ever played. But Noah’s looking at him with stars in his eyes.





	kiss it better

The marks on Noah’s skin are dark, red and angry. It’s all a little harsher when he’s wrapped up in soft white sheets, the soft glimmer of the sun rising drowning everything else in pastel pinks. It’s like art, getting to see something this gorgeous in person. 

Matt is thinking straight now at least, the frustration from last night worn into something dull, like filing down nails. It’s just a game, not the rest of his life, and he can tell himself that all he wants. All while carrying the weight of a 9-1 loss in the back of his head, staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think about just how fucking humiliating it is to hit the fan this early in the season at _home_. 

Noah takes a few more moments before stirring beside him and Matt watches the red digits on his alarm clock turn every minute before he feels fingers curl around his wrist, a soft sound coming from Noah.

He’s not sure if it’s anything more than a murmur, but even then Matt swears he can make his own name out from underneath Noah’s breath, like a _call_ , and he tries to centre himself. He needs to forget about this game if he’s ever going to make it any further. They all do. 

“Hey,” Matt says, and Noah winces a little as he shifts closer to him, tucked underneath the sheets. 

“You feeling any better?” He asks, easy as ever, and his voice is thick with sleep. It’s hard to listen to him talk without directly connecting it to last night, but Matt empties out his head as best as he can. It’s better that way, if he just leaves things tied off. 

“Mostly, yeah,” he insists. His fingers go to Noah’s neck before he can convince himself it’s a bad idea, brushing over the marks dipping down to his collarbone with delicate fingers. 

He doesn’t usually leave hickeys, but Matt’s brain wasn’t working any better than it would normally, convincing himself that this is fine. Just for once he decided to let Noah feel it the morning after.

Noah doesn’t protest, letting out a tiny breath when Matt presses down lightly, feeling his steady heartbeat beneath his fingertips. His eyes flutter shut, and it’s hard not to want him like this. Frail lashes brushing over his cheeks, lips soft and pink and so, so touchable. Matt bets he doesn’t even know how good he looks. 

“We’re gonna move on from it,” Noah tells him, insistence in his voice. His hand isn’t curled around his wrist anymore, travelling up to Matt’s hip and settling there like it’s no more than home. “Things are gonna get better.” 

It’s unfamiliar to him, speaking out his frustration. Matt doesn’t remember the last time he sat down and heard it from someone he loves, that he can do better. 

Last night was all bites and clawing fingers, nothing was nice, not as pleasant and quiet as it is now. Something in Noah’s tone has Matt thinking maybe he knows it. That Matt isn’t great with talking this shit out. Because he’ll carry this around like a disease until he gets literal tangible results and that’s how it’s always been.

“I know,” Matt says quietly, despite everything else swirling unhelpfully around his head. Reminders that he had more than enough chances to make something of last night, if he worked a little harder, and it makes his stomach turn with disdain. “It’s just. Stupid.”

“It is,” Noah tells him, reaching out to grab Matt’s hand when he retracts it from his neck. His fingers lace through like thread, giving him a reassuring squeeze. 

Matt lifts them to his lips, kissing the back of Noah’s palm. He wants to say something, to tell Noah that he believes in them, that they can ease their way out of this mess as a team, but most of it just fades away when he catches Noah’s eyes. They’re clear as crystals, and Matt’s always loved the way they go half-lidded in the mornings, as if he can’t keep them open. 

So, fuck everything else, he leans in to press a kiss to his lips, and Noah’s grip on his hand doesn’t go any tighter, laying idle as Matt kisses him. Kisses this early in the morning aren’t the best, but neither of them mention it. Matt’s busy getting swept up in the way Noah fits himself perfectly against him. It’s something he’s always managed to amaze himself with. Just how _right_ Noah feels against him.

“Noah, you should - I want you to fuck me,” Matt tells him when he pulls back, almost sure he mishears himself. But they don’t have a game until tomorrow and he wants to feel _something_ , even if the way Noah’s eyes blow wide make his heart jump a little. That could be enough, but Matt wants to be spoiled. Even if for a little bit.

“Wait, now? Are you sure?” He’s asking it like he’s unsure, but he’s already got himself propped up on one arm, looking down at Matt with heated eyes. 

“Yeah.” He swallows, and his throat’s a little dry, but he’s trying to give his full attention to Noah. Just so he knows for sure. “You know where I keep my stuff,” he says, just as Noah’s getting off the bed to reach underneath it. 

They’d both fallen asleep tangled together, clothes strewn across the floor and just barely cleaned up before passing out. So, yeah, Matt’s view is great. It’s only fair that he pushes the sheets away, propping himself up with some pillows. 

He was already half hard when he woke up, and seeing Noah slowly settle between his legs and push them apart - hands settling high along his thighs - is enough to keep that going. It earns him a small smile too, like Noah can’t believe this is happening. 

It’s a little rarer, for Matt to take it, but it’s all he wants right now. To be used, to feel those little sparks in his stomach that make everything else feel insignificant. With Noah here, it’s a lot easier just to lay back enjoy it. 

“You’re gonna tell me if you need me to stop, yeah?” Noah says, slicking his fingers up with the small bottle of lube he’d grabbed. All of him is on perfect display for Matt to see, the fading freckles along his shoulder, the v of his hips, and the bruises still plastered to his neck. Matt wants to touch him, his fingers twitching to reach out and take, take, take. 

“It’ll be fine,” Matt insists, and cuts a sharp breath when he feels a finger pet his hole. It’s almost warm, not as cool to the touch as he was expecting, and Noah’s eyes lock to the way the muscles in his stomach shiver. 

“Matty,” he urges. 

“Yeah - I’ll tell you,” he says, giving in just to get a smile in return.

Noah leans down to kiss along his chest, his teeth nothing but the light scratch against skin, and Matt’s going to tell him it’s okay to bite, that he _wants_ to be marked up, when that first finger slips in. It’s a lot harder to concentrate on much more than the way Noah’s working his hand than anything else, so Matt lets him pepper his chest with kisses, his lips ultimately landing against his collarbone. 

“I’m good for two,” Matt says after a minute, and he can feel the way Noah’s lips quirk up against his skin. It’s just as warm, feeling it rather than seeing it.

“Yeah, okay.” Noah’s voice doesn’t go any louder than a whisper, and they don’t need to be this quiet. They’ve got nothing to worry about, not at home, but everything else is a little blurry. It’s all slow and sweet. Matt’s not going to protest against this. 

Like when Noah’s got two fingers in him, the slide going easy after the initial speed bump. Matt’s not usually loud during sex, but he knows his breathing’s already coming out a little more ragged. Underneath Noah, he gets his gaze fully set on him, and it makes everything a little better. 

When Noah pulls out, all Matt can bring himself to do is watch him with patient eyes, his focus gluing itself to the way he rolls on his condom.

Noah looks up. “Enjoying the view?” 

And Matt doesn’t know how to tell him he’s enjoyed it all the way through, that Noah’s stolen his breath right from the beginning. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth because he’s got the grace to look at least a little sheepish as Noah lines himself up. “Gonna fuck me or are we just here to chat?”

He laughs, and Matt would mirror it, but it’s hard to get anything out when Noah’s pushing in. It’s like - everything goes blank and all he can really do is sit back and revel in it. All until Noah’s fully seated, grinding his hips forward as if he can get any deeper. 

Matt lets out this choked off noise he isn’t really sure what he can classify as and reaches out to splay his hands out against Noah’s shoulder blades. He can’t use his nails to grip, a little too short to plant them against his skin, but it feels good to have something to hold onto. Especially because that something is Noah. 

“Want me to move?” He asks, and Matt hurries out a, “yes, please,” against his lips. 

When Noah does start moving, his hips snapping slow to start with, Matt’s head is practically spinning. He tilts his chin back, exposing his throat to the light press of lips that settle against it. Noah doesn’t bite down, but getting kissed makes his nerves tingle just as much.

Noah’s fucking into him with the same precision he uses for those slapshots Matt thinks are going to rip through the net every time they happen right before him, and it’s punching these tiny little gasps out of him. He wants this and so much more, because he feels so fucking full and just that is enough, but having Noah pressed against him whispering sugar sweet words into his ear tops it all off. 

It’s like, Matt would be fine just getting fucked, but he gets this with Noah where he’s got the way his heart flutters whenever Noah smiles at him. Where he can pulls him in and kiss him just because he _can_ , because this is his. And it’s so much better, when it means something. 

There’s a hand that slips around his dick moments later, and Matt lets out a groan when it starts working him almost perfectly synced with each thrust, coaxing him closer and closer to the edge until he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to last even if he tried desperately to hold back.

So, Noah goes a little quicker and Matt comes hard enough that he nearly forgets where he is for half a second, when everything goes white. He can hear the little moan Noah lets out, fucking him until Matt feels like he’s on fire. 

It almost gets to be too much, but Noah’s hips stutter and he comes like that and Matt’s perfectly happy to kiss him through it, feeling Noah’s lips almost go limp against his mouth before he pulls back. 

“Fuck, Matt,” he breathes. His face is flushed, nearly as red as his mouth, and Matt loves it. He loves _him_.

Matt isn’t sure when he curled his toes, but he tries to relax as Noah’s knotting up the condom, giving him time to throw it out and slip the lube back under his bed. 

It’s still morning. The morning after one of the worst games he’s ever played. But Noah’s looking at him with stars in his eyes as he curls up next to him, an arm draping over his waist. 

And - he doesn’t need to say anything, he doesn’t think so. Because Noah’s kissing his shoulder, traversing up his neck, and Matt turns his head timed well enough that he catches his lips. 

When he pulls away, he’s smiling, and Matt can’t help but smile back.

**Author's Note:**

> i absolutely did clutch to a game that happened two months ago to write feelings. y’ardy know it was a mess so i mean


End file.
